


The Maltese Quarian

by KestrelShrike



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Detective, Detective AU, F/M, Filling In the Gaps, Missing Ark, Mystery, Post Andromeda, noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelShrike/pseuds/KestrelShrike
Summary: The Pathfinder embarks on a quest to uncover the lost quarian ark. Not going alone, she’s joined by her fellow Pathfinders, her twin, and Tiran Kandros, her partner (in crime and in life.) But what will they find onboard the ark? Old enemies or new? And who, exactly, is the mysterious Scientist at the heart of it all?





	1. Chapter 1

Nexus Director Tann rolled something between his fingers, eyes fixed up to the ceiling, a beam of wholly artificial light outlining him from the shadows that otherwise surrounded. “While I appreciate what you want to do, Ryder, your status as Pathfinder is simply too valuable to the Initiative to let you inspect Ark Keelah Si’yah based on a signal only your SAM is able to decrypt. If and when we have the resources, we can send a team to investigate, based on your recommendations. Good day, Ryder.” With that, the discussion was over, Director Tann shuffling papers self-importantly and pushing away from his desk, clamping a roll of paper not unlike a cigar between his teeth. “Do you have a light, Ryder?” Not unlike a cigar in that it apparently was one, though there was no scent of tobacco rising from it. 

“I didn’t know you smoked, Tann.” Wren Ryder turned her pockets inside out to show that they were empty and shrugged, trying not to sound like she was accusing him and failing utterly. Win some, lose some.

Tann shook his head, almost dropping his papers as he reached in his own pocket to pull out a flicker of light, a perfect spot against the patch of darkness he had positioned himself in. “Salarian cigar. Non-addictive and non-carcinogenic. Eases stress. A necessary indulgence. Good day, Ryder.” He moved with the knowledge that Ryder wouldn’t dare go against his word. His operation, his rules. Fuckhead. 

Another shake of her head and she descended the stairs a moment later, the sound of her shoes on the prefabricated material simultaneously soft and too loud for this space. Screw Tann. Screw politics and playing by the book; she had saved the whole damn Nexus more than once, and they still tried to keep her on a tight leash. It was even worse now than it had ever been before, like she was a pet and a figurehead more than a real woman. 

The other Pathfinders were waiting down below, trying to look like they hadn’t been listening in and blatantly failing. Sarissa leaned against a podium, a study of feigned nonchalance, reading the same few lines of text again and again, the others perched on the edges of chairs, clear signs that they had just managed to sit down. “Sorry if that got a little loud, guys.” Of course Tann shared his office with the designated Pathfinders’ room. Prick. There weren’t enough words in the galaxy to describe how she felt towards him right at that moment, though she was off to a strong start. 

“We bugged Tann’s desk weeks ago, so we would have heard either way.” Raeka shrugged, more than willing to admit to actions that were ostensibly against her own species. Even salarians didn’t seem to care for Tann much, most of them choosing to listen to their Pathfinder over Tann, or even paying heed to Ryder. It was causing some excess friction, but Ryder couldn’t fairly claim that she gave a damn. 

Avitus, the only one sitting comfortably on the couch, gestured Ryder over with a wave. “We have a plan to deal with our collective little problem. A proposition, if you want to hear it.” More and more of Avitus’ personality was emerging as time passed, but part of him remained locked away – something sad in his voice even now, as he planned for for a future he couldn’t bring himself to be wholly excited about. He was a good man and an even better Pathfinder, but he needed time; they all did, but time was a luxury no Pathfinder had the good fortune to indulge in. There were always more missions, and with the number of colonists coming out from stasis increasing, they still had new settlements to found. One day they would get a vacation, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be today. They would have to settle for a whiskey on the rocks after a long day, until the whiskey ran out too.

Collapsing onto the couch next to Avitus, Ryder closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing a sore spot somewhere right between them, above her nose. “Is the idea shoving Tann out of an airlock?” 

“Nothing would make me happier, but no, Ryder. Not that.” He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and then pulled back, recoiling from his own touch, but keeping a straight enough face that she wasn’t bothered by it. In his own time; the Pathfinders were close from necessity, but none of them could say they really knew the others on any deeply personal level. Not yet. 

Wearily, she nodded. Okay. Plans. Those were good to have. Too much of what she had done in the past had been winging it, and she couldn’t claim it had worked all the time; she wouldn’t want to die for a fourth time, for example. 

Sarissa picked up where Avitus left off. “The Tempest is the fastest ship out of all of ours, and has the best stealth system. Give us passage on the Tempest, and we’ll help you track down the missing ark.” 

“We are, after all, one Pathfinder short,” Raeka added with a slight smile. “None left behind.” There wasn’t a week that went by where Ryder didn’t think about the choice she had made back at the salarian ark, but Raeka’s gratitude was sometimes enough to keep her going. Her relationship with Drack had eventually repaired itself, but it had been slow going, hesitant at first, worse than it had been back at the beginning, but that was what being Pathfinder was about. Not everything you did was going to make people happy. In Ryder’s case, most of the choices you made where going to make a huge amount of people very unhappy, but c’est la vie. 

There was one catch though – there always was. “And how will we all fit? The Tempest isn’t a big ship, and my crew takes up every berth we have. We can only sleep so cozy.” Cots on the floor lost their appeal once you outgrew the sleepover stage of life, and Ryder couldn’t picture her fellow Pathfinders sitting around telling stories and braiding each other’s hair, not least of all because she was the only one among them who actually had hair. The image was funny enough that she had to resist the urge to laugh, a hand covering her mouth for a beat. 

“No crew members. Too risky. Your captain and co-captain and your engineer. Two crew members. That’s it,” Raeka said, tone clipped in a typically salarian way, making it clear that the two crew members were a concession, one only somewhat willingly given.

Ryder opened her mouth to protest and shut it, thinking better of it. This was the best chance they had of finding the ark and she had to take it. “Can I tell the rest of the crew?” 

“Best not to. We know your crew is absolutely loyal to you, Ryder, but that’s the problem. We don’t have the space.” Avitus shook his head and then clapped a hand on her shoulder. “We should let you go. Logistics to plan. Use our Pathfinder comm channel for confirmation.” 

One by one, the other Pathfinders filed out, no doubt packing and informing their own teams that they would be out of commission for at least a few days, leaving Ryder sitting on the couch, trying to figure out how she could choose just two. It was like asking to pick just two of her family to inform she was risking her life again. Family. Family! The answer was so incredibly obvious, though it hinged on the only two people who might say no to her, and it meant not telling everyone else. They’d get over it eventually, but Ryder knew that they would be hurt – Vetra would give her the silent treatment, and Jaal would do the same. Peebee would pout, and Cora would just sit there and look disapproving. Liam would act like it was fine, but it would be far from it, and Drack? Who knew about Drack. But her mind was made up, and she knew who she would bring with her on this hare brained scheme – it only remained to get them to say yes. 

****

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Wren.” Okay, not the reaction she had expected from Scott; she thought her twin would jump in after her, eager to get out and stretch his legs. 

Time for plan B. “Please?” She widened her eyes as far as they could go, and , even added a trembling lower lip. It was not a good look on Ryder, each gesture more comical than effective. Well, no one had ever called her a good actress. 

Scott sighed, but she could see something in his face softening. “You want me? Over all your other crew members? Look, Harry just gave me permission to start exercising again. I’m not exactly combat ready.” 

“Bullshit. You were always a better shot than me. Scott, I can’t pick someone from my crew, and we have so much to catch up on.” Nothing better than sibling bonding as you investigate an ark that didn’t want you to come, possibly leaving behind a trail of bodies in your wake. Truly the pinnacle of the twin experience. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Scott had one more excuse up his sleeve. “What about Mom? What if they make a breakthrough or something? Who’s going to keep an eye on her then?” 

He almost had her there, but Ryder had an answer, hands balled into fists, resting against her hips. “Mom is currently a popsicle, and she can stay that way until we’re back. There’s no cure even in the works. Maybe the quarians will have something. It’s about time I put you to use anyway. You’ll get flabby.” She slapped his stomach to prove her point, though she met nothing than hard muscle. Damn it, Scott. Why did he always have to be so much more fit than she was? 

Whatever resolve Scott had in holding out against his sister broke. “Only because I want to spend time with you,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, a gesture Wren knew she herself did when stressed or anxious about something. “And because you’ve become really good at dying when I’m not watching. Those are the only reasons.” Sure, Scott didn’t want to go on adventure. He was perfectly happy sitting here and doing not much, known as the Pathfinder’s twin or Alec’s son. Oh yes, he was totally going to rest on those laurels. 

The grin that spread across Wren’s face was positively wicked. “I’ll forward the details to you now. You know where the Tempest is. Don’t tell anyone though. Just get your stuff and find a bunk. You don’t get to share my bedroom anymore.” They had stopped doing that when they were five, and she didn’t want to share all her shiny new toys with Scott just yet. 

One companion down, one to go. Scott had been easy to convince, but Tiran Kandros might be something else entirely. 

****

There was always something slightly disconcerting about meeting Tiran Kandros in a busy public area like APEX HQ, keeping herself to a restrained minimum in an attempt to not have an unseemly public display of affection, but he was a tall glass of water with thighs to please any woman... and he was all hers. 

“Got a question for you, Kandros.” She settled for that, brushing her hand against his before standing some distance apart, feeling eyes on them. One day she’d give them something to stare at, but not today. 

He looked up from the tablet he was staring at, running numbers and figures in his head better than any accountant. “And I have an answer. Probably.” He looked doubtful about that, as well he should; it wasn’t like Ryder had the best track record of making good life choices. 

Rather than asking the question directly, Ryder came in from an oblique angle. Soften them up with other questions before you hit home and your target would give you the answer you wanted at least half the time. At least. “How about we get off the Nexus and see some more of the galaxy?” 

“Somehow, I think you’re not talking about a vacation.” One of his mandibles twitched ever so slightly, but he had a poker face that could almost beat Gil. 

“Not as such. An adventure. You, and me, and maybe just a few other people. We’ve been getting stale just sitting here sorting out problems on the Nexus. No Tann for at least a few weeks. I remembered to change my sheets.” Oh baby. Clean sheets. What man could resist that? 

Kandros picked up the tablet again, fiddling through some settings, opening his calendar. “I think I can pencil that in,” he finally said. “If only to keep you from getting yourself killed. You’ve been spectacular at that, Ryder.” Another mandible twitch, this one not nearly as hidden. 

“It’s a date.” Two companions down and she had a ship to catch and an ark to find.


	2. Chapter 2

Some said that space was the final frontier. Ryder, however, often said space was cold and dark and actually, technically lacked a frontier and a horizon and everything that dictated the language of manifest destiny, and that was because Ryder was no fun until she’d had at least one drink. That was why poker night (black tie required, drinks to start at seven PM Nexus time, sharp) was a thing, a strongly worded suggestion to the various Pathfinders to get to know one another as Kallo expertly piloted them through star systems unknown and uncharted, weaving in and out of the Scourge. 

Right. Black tie. Before she dictated the terms of the evening, perhaps Ryder should have checked that she actually owned anything appropriate. A Blasto tank top wasn’t black tie, was it? Then, miracles upon miracles, shoved in the back of her wardrobe and forgotten ever since, a red dress to clash against her lavender hair, high at the neckline and low a the back, a slit up the side that showed just enough thigh and just enough of the gun belt she kept there, a daring garter that packed some heat. Perfect. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” Kandros waited outside the door, extending an arm, wearing… what looked like a slightly cleaner version of the same armor he always wore. Something of Ryder’s disappointment must have shown on her face as Kandros straightened, looking as dignified as possible and placing a brown fedora on his head, where it sat uneasily, clearly not designed for unique turian cranial anatomy. “This is my best armor. Here’s looking at you, kid.” 

Unable to keep a straight face, Ryder broke into laughter until her sides hurt, tugging Kandros down the corridor and up the stairs to where everyone was waiting, the soft sound of music coming over some sound system she didn’t even know existed aboard the Tempest. Jazz, broken up by trumpets and a woman crooning into the microphone, singing about the bridges she burned and the love she lost. This was her kind of party. 

Scott greeted her at the top of the stairs, hugging her and then holding her at arm's length. She looked him up and down in turn and whistled; where he had managed to find a tuxedo that fit so perfectly was a mystery. “My baby brother is all grown up.” 

“A few minutes older, Wren. Martini?” He deflected her further protests perfectly, handing her a drink with a precisely impaled olive in the middle. “Dextro martini, Kandros?” Another drink for Kandros and everyone took their seats, her fellow Pathfinders dressed to whatever their species version of the nines was, (Avitus wore formal wear and not armor, Ryder noted) Gil seated in the center as house dealer and general master of ceremonies. 

“The name of the game is blackjack, mostly because someone didn’t know how to play poker.” A long look at Scott, who shrugged and looked unashamed. 

“Teach me sometime, Gil.” 

“Maybe I will.” A challenge, and maybe something more that Ryder would have to tease Scott about later. “House deals. House always wins, ladies and gentlemen. Place your bets.” Chips pushed towards the center; Sarissa was trying not to smile, Raeka looking nervous and putting only a few in, Avitus a blank canvas, the perfect poker face. Ryder tried to look over at Kandros’ cards but he angled them away from her, shaking his head ever so slightly. Naughty girl, his look said. A seven and a three. Shit. 

“Hit me,” she said when her turn came around, lifting her card up. A ten – she could work with a ten, but she didn’t raise her bet just yet, eager to see where everyone turned up. It ended up being a well-calculated move; a few minutes later, Scott revealed his perfect twenty-one to a low, impressed whistle from Gil. Was it time to start drinking already? 

That first hand dictated how much of the evening went; Ryder winning one hand the whole night, Kandros failing to win a single one and growing more frustrated and drinking more until she gently plucked the stem from between his fingers, shaking her head. “Now, now. Chances are, we’ll see action tomorrow and I need you at your best. There are other things you’re good at.” Something wicked pulsed in her, hot and deep. Maybe it was the song that was playing- something about kicking people in the head? Something about kissing. Maybe it was the knowledge that she had won in at least one way – she wasn’t going to bed alone. So there. 

Exchanging another look with him, Ryder stood and stretched. “We’re out. Absolutely tired. Definitely going to sleep.” The giggle she gave was not befitting the human Pathfinder, but neither was the look the others gave her. Scott, in particular, was burying his head in his hands, tips of his ears red. 

“Have a good night’s sleep, Pathfinder.” Raeka was so completely earnest that Ryder couldn’t tell if the salarian was joking or not; given her species view of sexual activity as, by and large, for reproductive instead of recreational purposes, it was entirely likely that she didn’t get it. Her loss, really. 

Tugging Kandros after her, Ryder lead him back the same way they had gone earlier, the sound of music slowly getting quieter until they were in her room, at which point she could throw on her own, something with more brass. Big band was what it was called, wasn’t it? It reminded her of her father, the flash painful. Not time to think about that though; Kandros was undressing her with his eyes, and she wanted him to do more than that.

“The gun. Before you shoot yourself.” His hands moved up her leg in finger-length increments, before coming to rest on her thigh, stroking it in small circles as he slowly undid the leather holster, taking his sweet time, letting the sensation of leather and skin on skin travel down the exterior of her thigh until it was around midway down. He let go and leaned over slowly, teasing her with the lack of contact until it was just the sensation of his breath on her upper leg. His teeth clamped down gently on the garter, pulling it downward, past her knee and calves and off her body completely, careful to put the gun down rather than flinging it aside. That was Kandros, always taking care of his weapons. 

Next his fingers went for the back of her dress, the zipper that ran from the small of her back to just above her buttocks going gracefully, the button that held the dress together at the neck a more difficult challenge given his fingers, one which Ryder was eager to assist with. In turn, she helped remove Kandros’ armor, piece by piece, taking as much care with that as he had with her gun. It was indeed his good armor, no dents or blemishes to mar its white surface, and if the circumstances had been any different she might have stopped to admire it, but his hand was urgently seeking new places to probe, removing the last of her clothing as she tugged him toward the bed. 

“Don’t do anything stupid this mission,” he insisted, pushing her downward, pinning her against the sheets and nuzzle the hollow of her neck, tongue tracing downward to flick over her breasts. 

“Define stupid.” A gasp escaped her as he continued downward, tickling just above her pelvis and then probing insistently inward so that her hands tightened spasmodically, fistfuls of blanket in each. 

“You have a team of Pathfinders with you, a team of SAMs. Don’t get yourself killed.” He came up for air, moving back upward, and she was finding it difficult to speak. 

“Only if you don’t- ah!” Back to her mouth, and she could taste herself on him, his teeth scraping the bottom of her lip, nibbling as gently as he could, given the circumstances. Words were beyond both of them now, however, as she reached downward to tug Kandros into her, fingers running over the ridges of his length, not yet going quickly so that he groaned into the skin of her shoulder, minutes spent on each one until she pulled him into her. 

Mindful that the Tempest was not exactly soundproof, Ryder none the less attempted to be quiet, failing utterly- who knew that turians were ridged for your pleasure? Well, she did, but it was something that would never grow old. They moved together, each thrust pushing her slightly upwards. He was mindful of his greater height, and of the places where his plates would rub together against her skin. 

The barely-heard music was singing about someone called Mack, who was apparently also a knife, but it was just a background chorus to poorly stifled moans, a sense of building pressure. Ryder clung to Kandros even as he leaned over her, remembering now and then to touch his forehead with her own, until… relief, a sweet floating sensation, his seeming to come a moment after hers, Kandros gently climbing off her and collapsing next to her, Ryder burrowing into the crook of his arm. 

“Pathfinder, the other SAMs have told me to inform you that your orchestral sounds are not nearly as musical as that of the sound system and to please keep it down.” Well, they had managed to fail that utterly, but Ryder just had a hint of a smile.

“I liked your hat, earlier. Looked bad on you, but I like the effort,” she finally said, looking sideways to Kandros. 

“I liked your dress. I liked taking it off more. You’re one tall glass of whiskey, Ryder.” It wasn’t the actual phrase and, somehow, that was okay. “I love you,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Not the first time he had said it to her, but it was rare; their relationship had been categorized by physical intimacy at the start, only later moving into… whatever this was. Partnership, maybe, one day. 

“I know,” she said back, and he threw a pillow at her, hitting her square in the face. Fair. She deserved that.


	3. Chapter 3

SAM woke Ryder up bright and early, speaking in their private channel. “Pathfinder, I have conferred with the other SAM units. Ark Keelah Si’yah is now visible. Kallo estimates we’re an hour’s flight away. The other Pathfinders are already preparing. I highly suggest you do the same.” Not that SAM would ever sound recriminating, but… Oh yes, there was definitely a hint of reproach there, the sassy secretary to her boss. 

Groaning, Ryder wiggled out from beneath Kandros’ arm, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. When that failed, she shook his arm until he woke up, a pillow flung at him as revenge for last night. “Ready yourself. We’ve got the target in sight and we should arrive there soon.” Unlike her, Kandros didn’t groan or protest, coming awake at once, moving forward to take a shower and get into his armor; every movement sharp and precise, every reflex already honed to military readiness. Turians. 

Considerably less on the ball, Ryder almost crawled into her own shower stall until the water woke her up, making her way back to her room to put on her armor carefully. Getting dressed was considerably less fun than getting undressed, though Kandros stopped to help her reach those difficult areas, making sure that no inch was uncovered and she did the same for him. “I need to talk to Scott before we meet up with the others. See you in the comms room.” Nodding, Kandros turned to leave, one hand cupping her cheek for just a moment. Bending over her omni-tool, Ryder said “Scott, can I see you?” 

He showed up almost instantly, his own armor fitting well, though his face was pale and his eyes looked slightly wide. Opening his arms, he gave Ryder a stiff, awkward hug, their armor hitting each other and making getting close difficult. 

“You ready for this? She tried to sound chipper and more awake than she was actually feeling; if it boiled down to it, she could sound positively chipper. 

Breaking out of the hug, Scott shook his head, an emphatic no. “You had so many better options to bring with you. You had friends with more actual battle experience. Doc Harry says I’m okay but… I’m rusty. Practically failed at the shooting range the other day. I’ll probably shoot a civilian.I won’t be hurt if you leave me behind and just take the Pathfinders. Really. It’ll be like… a little Pathfinder club outing.” Wouldn’t be hurt? His tone suggested anything but, though Scott put on a brave face. Ryder had years spent with him though, years to learn every facial tic and to read what his eyes said. He was a better liar than she was, but he was still her twin, and she could tell when something was bothering him or when he was just saying something to cheer her up. 

“Sure, you may be a shitty shot right now, but you’ll remember, and we may not even need to shoot anything. There’s no one I’d rather have at my side for this mission. You and me against the world, kid.” Leaning forward, she tousled her hair from her shorter height, messing it up enough to look like he hadn’t brushed it, and his scowl gradually turned into a laugh as he shoved her away, trying to reach for her own ponytail to mess it up. 

Ducking beneath Scott’s hand with expertise born of years of friendly sibling rivalry, Ryder shook her head. “Go make yourself pretty for the fight. And brush your damn hair. You look like a street urchin.” She pushed Scott away, making shooing motions. Anymore of this mushy emotional crap and she might actually puke, but she couldn’t resist smiling at Scott’s retreating back. He’d be okay. He had to be. If not… well, she’d make sure of it. There was no option B, and as much as she’d rather be playing pool in some mysteriously smoky hall with him, or drinking at a dive bar, this was what life gave to them. Okay. 

For the first time, Ryder began to feel nervous. There was no real way of saying what they would find on the ark, though she rushed to the window to get a view as they approached it. From a distance it looked… okay. Dark, like the lights weren’t on, but there was no external damage. “SAM, life signs?” One by one, Sarissa, Avitus, and Raeka joined her, conferring with their own SAMs, no doubt getting the same number. 

“Currently only three-quarters of the pods exhibit signs of life and power, Pathfinder. Conferring… Data is correct.” 25% losses? That wasn’t as bad as the turian ark, but the turian ark had only held one species. The quarian ark also carried hanar, elcor, and batarians -- not to mention whatever supply losses they had taken.

 

“Ryder, I think we’re receiving a transmission.” Kallo broke the meditative silence of the collective Pathfinders, each trying to deal with the information as only they knew how. Their work was hard and dirty, and hardly anyone welcomed you home with a pipe and your slippers when the day was done. 

“Play it, Kallo.” 

A crackle and the transmission came through, broken up but still somewhat audible. “This is Ark... Repeat, this...Keelah... If you’re receiving …. warning…. comms range... bay F4. Do NOT ....” Every third word or so came out broken, barely audible the first time around. 

“Play it again, Kallo.” One more time, this time more clear, SAM running descramblers to make every word as clear as possible. The voice sounded male, though it was difficult to tell through the distortion and the obvious stress inflections, asking them to dock within a specific bay, spouting dire warnings all the while. 

Exchanging a look with the other Pathfinders, Ryder shrugged. “What do you suggest we do?” She pitched the question to the group as a whole, including Kandros and Scott in on it as well. 

“Do it by the book.” Sarissa leaned forward, as if a few inches would make a difference in what they saw. 

“For now,” Avitus added. 

“Agreed.” That was Raeka then, and Kandros and Scott only nodded. They would dock where requested and see where that brought them, and what. For now, they could only watch as the ark loomed larger and larger, still far too silent, still too dark. They would find out what was wrong soon, one way or another.


	4. Chapter 4

The time had come. One final weapons check -- assault rifle primed, sniper rifle good to go -- and they were prepared to leave the Tempest, docked smoothly alongside the ark. Given the lack of lights, gravity and oxygen couldn’t be guaranteed -- helmets on, everyone’s voice coming over through comms in a distant quality, as if they were miles away rather than just right there. Before exiting the airlock, Ryder stopped near Kandros, hand brushing against his. Her comms buzzed on her private channel, the one only he had access to. “If this all goes to shit, Ryder, come back to me.” The faintest hint of a smile behind her helmet and she squeezed his hand as much as was possible. 

“Only if you do the same. We’re going home together, Kandros.” A return of pressure from his own hand and then they were back to business, focused wholly on whatever it was that lay ahead. As they all moved forward to stand near the Tempest’s doors, Ryder clapped Scott on the shoulder, bumping into him affectionately and dusting something imaginary off the shoulder of his armor. It was pristine, too much so, but today she had a feeling that they were about to break it in. 

They gathered near the door. Now would be the time for an inspiring speech, if she had it in her. “Avitus and I will take point. Kandros and Scott, take the middle --” where they would be safest -- “Sarissa and Raeka are the rear guard.” Okay. Inspiring words. “Let’s get this done and find our fellow Pathfinder, and drinks will be on me.” A ragged, half-hearted cheer rose up. “Right… Okay. Let’s do this.” Pathfinder was a solitary job and a solitary title, but today they’d move as one, and hopefully they wouldn’t light their own asses up in the process. 

The airlock was crowded as they waited for the Tempest to finish cycling, filtered oxygen and anxious breathing the only sounds. When the door finally hissed open to allow them their first glimpse of the ship, Ryder was as surprised as anyone else to see that dim lights were on, illuminating some dark patches but also making the existing shadows darker, every corner filled with distinctly bad possibilities. “Nominal oxygen content, Pathfinder. It is recommended you keep your helmet on.” The head protection didn’t seem like a bad idea either; exchanging a glance with Avitus, Ryder pushed forward, pulling out her assault rifle and feeling its familiar comfort in her hand. Nothing like the smell of incendiary rounds in the morning. 

The lights all seemed to lead deeper into the cargo hold, which looked relatively untouched. Nothing wrong here, until… About two hundred feet away from where they had entered, the heads on pikes began. 

Ryder started, and then leaned forward to examine them with grisly fascination. In the dim light, they looked vaguely human-shaped, but when she got closer they were something else entirely, something that no one had expected to see in the Andromeda Galaxy. 

“Ryder, are those geth?” Kandros came to her side, leaning forward to touch one of the heads gently. It didn’t respond, clearly inactive or dead (whatever term worked better), taking it down and turning it over and over again. 

“Sure as hell looks like it, but I never saw one in person. Sarissa? Raeka?” Scott wouldn’t know, as clueless as she was, though he was looking at a second one just across the outlined walkway, not leaning too close as if he were afraid it would suddenly spring back to life and manage to do… something. What that could be without a body wasn’t clear, but it was a primeval, childhood fear, that idea of teeth going for your throat, no matter how illogical. 

Raeka took the head from Kandros, examining the dead light and the severed wires, no longer dripping the fluids that seemed to keep the geth powered. “Standard unit. I can’t tell when it was deactivated, but I don’t think it was too long ago.” She put the grisly object back on its pike and shuddered. “This isn’t looking good.” They all had weapons out now, twitching at every noise, every groan of the ark. 

“This one is a prime.” Sarissa had walked slightly further on, standing before an even larger geth unit, using her biotics to manipulate it without touch. 

“What the fuck happened here?” No one answered her; no one knew anything more than she did. All they could do was move on, walking between at least ten rows of impaled geth, all staring outwards towards nothing. Towards the Tempest now. Creepy as shit any way you spun it, and not exactly comforting. Besides the geth, however, there were still no signs that a single thing had gone wrong. Every crate was neatly in place, marked with what they contained, from key components of habitat modules to medication used to maintain the fragile quarian immune system. Whatever had happened hadn’t been here, the illusion of safety a bubble that was ready to burst. 

Every door into the rest of the ark was locked, save one. Any one of the SAM units could have unlocked it, but whoever had sent the message in the first place clearly meant for them to head towards that one double door, approximately human sized and also undamaged. Though closed, its green was comforting, a further sign that something was almost normal. “Wren, keep your gun up.” That was Scott, his own still steady in his hands. As the minutes passed, she had grown too comfortable. Shit. 

Kandros pushed past her as she fixed her gun positioning, opening the door and taking point before she could. Stupid, noble bastard. She wanted to yell out at him, worried that he was walking into something, but … nothing, just the same dim lighting, a corridor stretching forward into the depths of the ship. Then, the sound of a door opening, a figure backlit and striding towards them, pistol in hand -- clearly quarian, but no one bothered to lower their guns just yet. A protective barrier formed over their small group; Sarissa taking further precautions.. 

“I told you idiots not to come.” Idiots wasn’t the exact word, just SAM’s besthelpfully translation from the original quarian language, not that it made the words any better. 

“Who the hell are you?” Two could play at the abrasive asshole game, and Ryder had at least a few months of experience to back her words up. No quarian could compare with Tann. 

To her surprise, the quarian extended a hand. He was male, once he came close enough to make anything out, though his suit hid all other distinguishing features. Armored, but that was just intelligent. He had the Andromeda Initiative insignia on his shoulder, Ryder noted, extending her own hand in a daze, her grip less than its usual assured firmness. If there was some great beyond that Alec looked in from, he would have been ashamed. 

“Naru’Laem vas Keelah. I am the Pathfinder for the quarians.” Though the quarian’s grip was strong, he dropped her hand as soon as he was able to and rubbed its gloved surface against his pants with some irritation, repeating the movement until he was apparently satisfied he had shaken off whatever pathogens a human might carry. 

“Wren Ryder, human Pathfinder.” Well, that was that over with. 

Sarissa, perhaps still eager to make amends for her past transgressions, was next to step forward. “Sarissa Theris, asari Pathfinder.” Another weak handshake, and then Raeka stepped forward. 

“Zevin Raeka, salarian Pathfinder.” A third exchange of grips, and then just Avitus was left. 

“Avitus Rix, turian Pathfinder.” With that, their little greetings were done, though Naru looked at Kandros and Scott with evident curiosity before dismissing them entirely, shaking his head even as Kandros stepped forward to introduce himself. 

“So every Pathfinder in the galaxy is an idiot. No, I don’t want to know who those two are -- that’s just two more to add to the death toll, and I have enough of that on my shoulders already.” He didn’t even bother to extend a hand this time, turning his back on them and pacing up and down in the narrow confines, each step strangely fascinating to watch. 

Shaking her head to clear it, Ryder finally said, “What exactly went wrong here?” There were still no obvious signs, if you ignored the whole ‘heads on pikes’ motif that the cargo bay had going on. Okay, so there were evidently geth, but how and why? They couldn’t have been in the original plan; there was no way anyone in the Initiative would have allowed that, and given the anti-AI sentiment that still existed today, even normal people boarding the arks would have been uncomfortable sharing their space with potentially murderous robotic beings. Prudes. 

Naru finally stopped his endless movements. “This is the only region of the ark that’s safe. I don’t know how many colonists we lost. I don’t know who started this, exactly. I just know what we call him -- the Scientist.” The pacing started anew, a tiger in a cage. Slowly, doors alongside the corridor opened and more three more quarians revealed themselves, a lone hanar trailing behind, listening in intently. None had visible eyes, but if they did, they would have been wide and fearful. 

“He’s holed up at the other end of the ark through an army of geth. He stored them wherever he could -- removed personal belongings, took out supplies we needed to survive. He only communicates in emails, but there have been plenty of those. I don’t know what he wants, but I can’t solve this. No one can.” 

The picture he painted was grim, but as Ryder exchanged a look with the other Pathfinders, they all gave her a nod. “Maybe not a single person, but we can, together. Work with us, Naru, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.” A stirring pronouncement, given that she had no idea if they could actually handle anything like this. The kett were one thing -- they were almost familiar at this point, killing them like a walk in the park on a Sunday morning. But geth? Geth were old school, and not in a way that was at all charming. Geth were the backbone of horror stories she had read as a kid, things whispered between her and Scott late at night, keeping them both awake for hours. They had been an unresolved problem, one that came up again and again without ever seeming to stop. Now they were her problem, all those old grisly stories come to life. Great. 

Naru was evidently of a similar mind. “This is a quarian problem, with all due respect.” From his tone, there was not actually any respect due at all. “You’ve risked enough coming here. There’s still time to get you all off the ark, before the geth notice. I highly suggest you do that.” And we can forget this all happened, he seemed to be suggesting, as if leaving thousands of people marooned, probably to die, would ever be a realistic option. 

Just then, the doors at the far end of the corridor started to screech, the scent of burning metal filling the air as something began to shear through it with effort. “I thought you sealed the doors!” Naru screamed at the hanar, who cringed back. 

“This one also believed he did.” How a hanar could actually do so was a headache for another day- what mattered now was that they were about to receive a visit, and their guests didn’t look like they were dropping in for a martini and a chat. 

Guns out, they could only watch as the metal eventually crumpled, something knocking into it forcefully to create an entryway through which at least five geth marched -- four standard units and a pyro, torch dim from expending fuel on cutting through metal. Company was here, and it was time to show them the proper Pathfinder welcome. 

Sarissa’s barriers were poised above them, ready to provide a blue overlay to the world, though they quickly vanished as the asari realized it was more efficient simply to hoist the lead geth aloft with biotics, giving Avitus an easy shot. One geth down, leaking fluid over the floor, and four more to go. At least they were more than evenly matched; from Naru’s story, it sounded like this wasn’t something they could count on for long. Press the advantage while they could and that would be five less geth to deal with, because there was no way they were abandoning the ark now. 

Raeka’s pistol tore through the gut of another geth, and though it didn’t stop it entirely, it seemed to sever some essential connection between legs and body, making it move in awkward, stuttering movements. It was easy for Ryder to provide cleanup, bullets tearing through it until there was nothing left of it but an empty shell, lights dim. Even Scott got in on the action, working with Kandros to corner the pyro, a normally dangerous proposition made mute by the fact the damn thing was out of fuel. It was the work of a few minutes to clear the floor entirely, but Ryder found that her heart was racing and she was breathing hard when it was over. “Still want to send us home, Naru?” 

To that, the quarian could only shake his head. It appeared that he would keep them, at least for now.


	5. Chapter 5

Naru lead them out of the docking bay and into a warren of corridors that seemed to avoid the main arteries of the ship, if just barely. There were scorch marks on the walls and, every now and then, a body lying prone in a hallway, left to dry out in the recycled air. Many of the bodies were geth, but every now and then part of the awakened crew would be found, a gamut of species, none of which had been granted a proper burial. It was grim, but there wasn’t even time to stop and close their eyes, to turn cracked helmets upward so that heads weren’t twisted the wrong way. They simply had to press on and hope that they would reach the center of all this activity, knowing that this relative silence wouldn’t last for too long. 

“How long?” Kandros broke the silence, voice a low whisper even through comms. 

Naru shook his head. “Two weeks now. We had enough supplies to last the survivors I’ve gathered, but we’d run out eventually. Systems are damaged- I’m not sure what would go first, breathable air or purified water that quarians can actually drink.” Abruptly, he stopped speaking and moving, raising a fist to pause them all. A dim scraping could barely be heard up ahead, muffled through their helmets and armor. Contact. 

Exchanging a glance with Kandros (who shook his head in a definitive ‘no, don’t’), Ryder moved forward, looking out from around a rounded corner. Two geth were picking up a third, a unit that had shut down. Whether they were dismantling it for parts or preparing it for some AI funerary rites wasn’t clear; the second idea made Ryder distinctly uncomfortable. It was easier to think of the geth as things than as individuals, but it seemed hypocritical given every SAM unit present, each with distinct quirks and voices. 

They hadn’t been spotted yet, giving Ryder time to remove her sniper rifle, lining up two quick shots. The sound of the gun echoed loudly through the space, and though the geth were down, there were further noises. It was about to be very cramped indeed, not unexpected given their proximity to the center of the ship. From here on out, they would be fighting all the way, but they were ready for this. They had no choice but to be ready, but there was still time for Ryder to step back and squeeze Scott’s shoulder, whispering through a private channel, “We got this. You got this. Kick some ass, baby brother.” 

As if spurred onward by being called her baby brother, Scott took the front this time, firing neat shots into the first five geth that walked in, a tight line soon dissolving as conflicting orders and processes prevented them from having the full military precision that an organic team might have. “Push forward!” Avitus yelled, and Ryder conceded to his wisdom. If they held their place, they could be here for hours, and according to Naru they had been getting close, so close. They couldn’t kill every unit aboard this ship without running out of ammo, and though Naru knew of some caches, they were spread out, some out of the way from their original goal. 

A grim unit pressed forward, Ryder and Scott at point and everyone else falling behind in a spread out, vaguely triangular formation. For every five steps they took, another three geth swept forward; word had gotten out that there were strangers on the ark, and the Scientist had no desire for anyone to get too close to his domain. It was frustrating as shit- what the hell was he even hoping to accomplish here? No real time to contemplate, given that they had to be focused purely on survival, but Ryder had some questions for him when they reached him. That they would she took for granted; for all that the geth scared the shit out of her, they were going down relatively easily, her shields not even flickering yet. 

And then… nothing. Echoing silence, piles of deactivated geth behind them. “It’s too quiet,” Raeka said, eyes flickering to Naru. 

“Ark leadership stasis pods were kept just here, in this room. You can look for yourself.” There was a medium sized room, a dead end just off the corridor. The breathing room would be welcome, time for them to inspect their weapons and their armor, make sure everything was still working. 

Four stasis pods sat in the center of the room. Two had been ripped open, tops pried off with mechanical strength. There was blood staining both, but no sign of the bodies. The third and fourth were still intact, one large enough that it could only hold an elcor, the other the standard size for a quarian. “Where did they take the other two? Why those two and not the rest?” 

Naru shrugged. “I don’t know where they are. Dead, probably. Both were well known for their hardline stances against the geth. The elcor had no opinion at all, and the third was a geth apologist. It shouldn’t have mattered here, but that’s the only thing I can think of.” He dismissed their lives and their deaths so casually, as if they didn’t matter at all, but his voice sounded less certain than it had been just a half hour before, when they had first met. Without facial expressions, it was difficult to tell what was truly going on, but it seemed like the quarian Pathfinder might have been cracking. It would be up to them to help keep him whole long enough to sort this mess out. 

“Ryder, problem. Big problem.” Kandros had been watching the door, ducking into the room now and leaning against the wall, peering out now and then. “We’ve got a Geth Prime on our ass.”


	6. Chapter 6

The Prime was too large for the corridor, stooping slightly as it walked towards them, rifle primed and ready. Every now and then, the top of its head would scrape, the sound of metal against metal. It seemed to be taking its time, confident (if such a thing could be said about geth) in the ability to take them down. “Okay, SAM… help.” Other than the name and the fact it was enormous, Ryder knew nothing about it. 

“It is heavily shielded, Pathfinder. The pulse rifle can fire both bullets and rockets. It is advised you find cover.” Great advice as always, SAM. 

As if to underly SAM’s point, the geth sent a rocket down the corridor at them. With no place to hide, their choices were duck, dive, or die. “Hit the floor, NOW!” Everyone was quick to duck, dodging a bullet, so to speak, but there wasn’t anywhere to turn and run and there wasn’t any cover, no crates left out to hide behind, nothing in the ark pulled down. The initial battle had taken everyone by surprise, and there was nothing to show for it but the trail of bodies and faint bullet holes littering the walls. 

“Sarissa, can you lift that thing up?” If they could incapacitate it, even for a few seconds, they would have an enormous advantage. 

“I can try!” Stepping to the front, an enormous blast of biotic energy radiated from the asari Pathfinder’s body, rippling around the geth unit. At first it seemed to do nothing at all, as if the geth could just keep walking through it, but slowly his arms drifted upwards, and then his legs. It was working- it was going to work! But Sarissa was shaking from the effort, skin going pale; barriers had always been her speciality, this going beyond the pale. 

“Fire!” Crouching, bullets whizzed over Ryder’s head, everyone laying into the geth at once. Sarissa’s warp field gave out, but they had done what they needed to do. A thin, vaguely silver fluid was pouring out on the floor, the rest of the unit simply not doing anything at all, lights dimming. One residual, twitching movement and then nothing except the faint sense of victory. 

Naru holstered his pistol. “That’s one down.” His tone was so dry that he could have rivaled a desert. 

“One?” 

“You think there’s just one Prime on the ark? There’s at least two more, and I’m sure they’ll be waiting for us the minute we go through those double doors.” If the layout of the quarian ark was anything like the human one, the main concourse would be just beyond the doors, dim power indicating a green circle. Unlocked, curiously enough. Someone was either waiting for them or had never expected them to get this far. The defenses felt relatively light, but it made sense- none of the people awake on the ark had expected an attack from within. Any weapons they had would be locked away in storage. They had arrived in the Andromeda cluster; they would be getting comfortable, preparing for that uncertain, hopeful future. Instead, they had received… whatever this was. Death, destruction. Old enemies no one had expected to see again. 

What were they waiting for? Too many dramatic pauses and not enough action. Not waiting for another speech about how stupid they all were, Ryder pushed through the doors, the sudden brightness of the concourse temporarily blinding her. This was where most of the ship’s power was going and it looked… Well, it looked pretty normal, actually. Clean. There were plants in every pot- more plants than had been on the human ark, as if everything living in the ship had been dragged here to create a jungle ambiance. You could almost think that nothing was wrong, but there was one change- towards the center of the room, a sort of make-shift stage had been erected out of metal crates, a Geth Prime standing on either side, and lounging in the center was the Scientist. 

“Sarcastically, how kind of you all to join me.” A bass rumble from him- it was a ‘him’ as far as Ryder could tell, though it was impossible to say with elcor, and if her mouth was hanging slightly open, she wasn’t alone. THIS was the Scientist? The crazed genius behind the rogue geth was… Not a quarian. He didn’t even have fingers, though she was the first to admit she wasn’t an expert on elcor anatomy. 

“Delighted: you seem shocked to see me.” With a nod of his head, the two Prime units seemed to come to life, each taking a step away from the platform, towards the knot of people. “Regretfully: It is now time for you to die.” 

Naru took another step towards the stage, bridging the slowly decreasing gap between Pathfinders and geth. “Why? You owe me that much.” It was the first time he had really sounded anything other than annoyed, anguished over everything that had happened. He was breaking faster than Ryder had counted on; she exchanged a look with Scott, but there was little they could do. 

“With gusto: The geth are a proud, independent people. They’ve been so accommodating with me- you might say we have goals in common.” If the Scientist had more mobile limbs, he probably would have been gesticulating wildly, but his own bodily limitations made him sound and look completely bored with the proceedings, eyes sleepy. 

“Informatively, there are sympathizers back in the Milky Way who were more than happy to assist me. Conspiratorially, injecting these geth with a virus to make them loyal to me was easy; it’s not just your people that call me the Scientist. Proudly, the elcor also bestowed the moniker on me. Insane laughter.” It was a disjointed experience, the Scientist’s words and his actions not quite matching up, everything about him completely deadpan. It was worse than elcor Hamlet, which Ryder had watched with friends as a bet once on who could last the longest without falling asleep. She hadn’t won. 

Not waiting to hear more, Naru whipped out a small pistol, taking one precise shot towards the elcor on the platform. It hit the Scientist’s lower leg; he managed to move surprisingly quickly for a creature that large, and before Naru could line up a second shot, the geth had leapt into action quite literally, one landing in front of Naru, Ryder, and Avitus and the other cutting them in half, standing before Raeka, Sarissa, Kandros, and Scott. 

“You idiot! He’s going to get away.” Or not. Apparently one swift movement was all an elcor could manage; the Scientist was simply watching now, either completely confident in the geth’s ability to stop them or out of energy to do much else. Given his unarmed state, Ryder leaned towards the farmer and not the latter. 

“Deploying a combat drone.” A flick of his omni-tool and quick hands at the pouches at his waist and Naru pulled the drone out of somewhere, buzzing to life and whirling around the Prime’s head like a fly, firing off a small rain of bullets that seemed to do little other than annoy the thing. It did, however, give Ryder time to prime her rifle, Avitus granted the same leeway. Armor-piercing ammo, time enough to feed it in, throwing her spares to Avitus, looking behind to see how the others were dealing but not having the time. There were more of them and they were all battle capable. They would be okay. 

The same couldn’t be said for the three of them. The combat drone was knocking down some of the shields, but it only seemed to deal with the first layer, according to the combat overlay SAM had sent. “Ryder, I see a terminal. It might be the one the Scientist worked from- if it is, I could deactivate the geth, at least temporarily, but you’ll need to distract the Prime and the Scientist.” It was a lot of ‘maybes,’ but it was the best bet they had. Even if they knocked down the two Prime, there was the distinct possibility that there were more laying in wait, endless waves that the Scientist could just send towards them at his leisure. 

“Avitus, you’re on the Prime. I’m on the Scientist. SAM, infiltration profile.” It was like she could feel a switch in her brain turning, a new array of abilities and possibilities spread out before her. Cloaking- there. It was so easy to activate it, feeling the world grow that much dimmer and suddenly she couldn’t see her own body properly, just a faint shimmer wherever her arms and legs moved. No time to contemplate it; the geth was craning its head this way and that, trying to figure out where she had gone. While it did so, Naru took an abrupt left, heading for the terminal he had seen, and Avitus shot at it, the bullets focusing its attention back forward. But Naru was the more tempting figure, the one not currently shooting and therefore the one that combat protocols dictated should be the primary target. 

No time like the present to do something incredibly stupid. Arms pumping, Ryder ran, skidding and ducking between the legs of the Prime, still nothing more than a faint shimmer. As she did so, she fired upward, her cloaking breaking as the geth turned to focus on her, and then turned again as Avitus continued to fire, no longer sure which was the greater threat. Taking advantage of its confusion, Ryder activated her cloak again. Stars go with you, Avitus, but you’re on your own. 

Things were not going according to plan for the Scientist. The sound of a rocket fire almost distracted Ryder, but she pressed forward towards an increasingly frantic elcor, now trying to slowly climb off the platform and having difficulty with the drop down, almost falling as he attempted to escape the room and the situation and find somewhere safer. 

“Not so fast, you elephant bastard.” Was that racist? That was probably racist. 

“Pleading: human, don’t do this. I can give this new galaxy so much. I’ll call off the geth.” Begging for your life sounded so much worse when you couldn’t manage any emotional inflection, which made pressing her gun against the Scientist’s temple that much easier. But when it came time to pull the trigger, she couldn’t, staring at the elcor as he stared at her, eyes maybe slightly wider than they had been before (though that could have been her imagination.) 

“Passionately: kind, good human Pathfinder. You would spare me. Let me sort out the mess I’ve created.” He deserved to die for what he had done to the ark, for the hundreds of pods that no longer showed life signs, their occupants either dead in their cryo coffins from diverted power or simply in the corridors, granted no burial. But there were trials, and he was a sentient being… Damn it. Another rocket went off and someone yelled, and it was almost enough to distract her again. The sounds of the battle didn’t seem to be going well; where was Naru? 

Distracted, Ryder didn’t notice as the Scientist flung a massive leg towards her own, rather spindly, human ones, knocking her down. His foot was on her chest instantly, pushing down.”Sorrowfully, your death will be mourned. Just not by me.” Her oxygen was rapidly running out, SAM yelling something in the back of her mind. With the edges of her vision going black, Ryder pointed upward and simply shot, and suddenly she could breathe again, rolling onto her side and promptly vomiting. 

“Fuck… Fuck you.” Gasping, she managed to get to her knees and then finally stood, trembling, looking at the heap that had formerly been the Scientist. A lucky shot, one in a million, neatly between his eyes and stopping somewhere in his skull. She almost regretted it, but he had been about to suffocate her. 

Shit, what about the rest of them? It was suddenly quiet; turning around, she could no longer see the geth until she looked down where they lay prone on the ground, dinged up but otherwise not unduly harmed. That crazy quarian bastard had done it. He had deactivated them, at least for now. 

One unsteady step after another. Death had become too familiar, though at least she hadn’t actually managed to stop her heart this time. Progress on the whole ‘not dying’ front. 

One by one, they appeared. Avitus, looking weary, a smear of blood on his brow. Naru coming from the terminal, abruptly sitting, slouching against a wall and breathing heavily, suit still intact but adrenaline fading rapidly. Sarissa leaning heavily on Raeka, both of them looking slightly bruised, Sarissa burnt, and then... “Scott? Kandros?” Something cold formed in the pit of Ryder’s stomach, spreading tendrils upwards and keeping her going when all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep, her body still craving sweet oxygen. “Where the hell are they?” 

With a weary jerk of her head, Sarissa gestured back towards the second downed geth. A rocket had torn up the floor, leaving a scorched trail of metal, the scent of something organic and burnt heavy on the air. Shit, shit, SHIT. Stumbling as she started to run, Ryder crossed the space in just a few seconds, every step feeling like it took an eternity. Her lungs were screaming and the world was growing fuzzy again, but she had to see, had to make sure… 

From behind the Prime, Scott and Kandros came, the turian leaning heavily on her brother. It looked like Kandros had taken a rocket directly to his left arm; it hung at an unnatural angle, the armor blasted away to show blistered, charred flesh. Every movement seemed to make him wince, and though Scott looked superficially better, he was obviously exhausted and pale. 

First she hugged her brother, and then Ryder threw her arms around Kandros as carefully as possible, holding him close. She felt like shit, but he had to feel worse. “Saw you out there, Ryder. You looked good.” His speech was labored, but there was a twitch of a smile around his mandibles. “Up until you were being crushed.” 

“Sit down, Kandros.” She took Scott’s place, supporting him as best as possible, leading him to a wall and helping him down, legs folding underneath herself to lean against his right side, his arm snaking around her shoulders. “You look like shit, but at least your face is okay.” Easier to joke than to explain that part of her still felt so cold; he wasn’t out of danger yet. He would need immediate medical attention, once they managed to get off this ark. “SAM, tell Lexi to prepare the medbay.” She had to get him out of here, but she also still had to deal with all this mess. So much to do, and all she wanted to do was nap. “I didn’t die this time,” she finally said, voice sleepier than she had intended. 

Reaching to a pouch at her waist, she took out some medi-gel, giving it to Kandros and spreading it on his arm carefully, fingers touching as lightly as possible. “You’re not a great doctor, Ryder.” He winced; part of his color looked like it was fading. “I’m glad you’re alive this time,” he continued, eyes half-lidded. 

“Don’t fade out on me, Kandros. Stay here, you giant idiot. Stay with me.” The others had come closer now; dimly Ryder could hear Scott say that Lexi was making her way from the Tempest, that she should arrive shortly to attend to their wounds and help get Kandros back on board the ship.

“Ryder, I’ll stick with you forever, if you’ll stick with me.” Was he… was that?... No ring, covered in blood, both of them at least half-dead. It was perfect. 

“Always.” There were so many complications to tie up still- the quarian ark would have to come to the Nexus, the geth would have to be either deactivated or disposed of, any companions to the Scientist found- but they had taken another step towards a bright future, and they had done it together. The world could wait if they could rest. Her head on his shoulder, Ryder’s fingers intertwined with Kandros’. They were both going to be okay. 

“SAM, that song I like. Play it, SAM.” While they waited for Lexi, the swirling sound of Frank Sinatra filled the comms channel. 

“I love you, just the way you look tonight.”


End file.
